The Yin to His Yang by Wynter Daniels

Author:Wynter Daniels [Wynter Daniels]
Language: eng
Format: epub
Published: 0101-01-01T00:00:00+00:00

Chapter Five

Griffin stepped out of the shower and tied a towel around his waist. Steam hung in the air and fogged the mirror. Not that he’d be able to see his reflection without his glasses anyway. As he reached toward the sink for them, a chill—like icy fingers—skated across his back and shoulders.

Slipping his spectacles on, he shivered, and for the briefest moment, though he saw a large shadow pass behind him. He spun around, only to find himself alone in the bathroom. Yet he felt another presence, watching him.

A ghost?

Had to have been his imagination. The universe operated on a solid foundation of rules, and those didn’t include things like ghosts. This strange, Halloween-themed town was getting to him. Or else it was being in Aunt Dorothea’s house, constantly seeing her witchy accoutrement, like the old-fashioned broom with the crooked stick, the miniature cauldron in the kitchen that she’d used as a candy dish, and the myriad of glass jars full of herbs with strange names, like mugwort, slippery elm, and smudge.

Only a few days ago, he’d thought Stevie was kind of strange, too. But after spending a little time with her, and his long conversation with her grandmother, he wasn’t put off by Stevie. Quite the contrary. All he could think about was her. And despite being well aware that he could be dashing headlong into a sticky situation, he couldn’t stop himself. Didn’t want to. It had been way too long since he’d felt this good.

After he’d shaved and dressed in jeans and a lightweight sweater, he headed next door with a bottle of merlot that he’d found in his aunt’s pantry. A sweet lavender aroma hit him as he stepped up to Stevie’s porch. He hesitated just long enough for his growling stomach to quiet down before he knocked, yet the instant Stevie opened her door, a very different hunger overtook him.

Her skin looked freshly scrubbed, and without a stitch of make-up, was still flawless. Her warm smile lit up her dark eyes, and he couldn’t help but smile along. How could anyone not? Despite the nip in the night air, her company heated him up as well as a summer sun.

Backing into her living room, she motioned him in. “Dinner’s not quite ready yet.”

“I hope you like red.” He showed her the wine he’d brought.

“Perfect. You mind opening it?”

“Not at all.” He followed her toward the kitchen, which had a warmth and charm that was unpretentious in its simplicity. Small pots of herbs lined the windowsill—basil, mint, cilantro, and parsley. There was a big farmhouse sink, and a wooden hutch filled with mismatched dishes. An L-shaped bench and dining area in the corner had built-in shelves above with old-fashioned kitchenware, like a crank mixer, a small sifter, and a weathered tea kettle.

His ex-wife had decorated every room of the apartment they’d shared in an understated, modern style, which hadn’t had a fraction of the homey vibe that Stevie’s cottage did.

Steam floated up from a pot on the stove, and vegetables sizzled in the frying pan.

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